


Trick or Treat, Stephanie Kapinski!

by Prairie_Garden_Girl



Series: Miss Kapinski's Compleat Spooky Month Adventures [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Glazed donuts (but not real glazed donuts), Halloween fun, Misunderstandings later clarified, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Smut, Suggestive euphemisms, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prairie_Garden_Girl/pseuds/Prairie_Garden_Girl
Summary: Steph owns a confectionery shop. Marcus is her maintenance man. One morning, Steph finds out that Marc is interested in way more than just her baking equipment!
Series: Miss Kapinski's Compleat Spooky Month Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986703
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Trick or Treat, Stephanie Kapinski!

**Author's Note:**

> Uh oh, this is not SanSan, and it's not even fandom! 🙈 Just a couple of random OCs, as I seem to be hooked on writing original characters at the moment...I hope you all enjoy it anyway 😀 
> 
> I wrote this series for my best friend, after we spent an evening giggling and drooling over beefy internet dudes who post videos of themselves uttering suggestive euphemisms/similes 🍩 
> 
> Anyway, it's just a little something for fun, in honor of Halloween! 🎃

**Trick or Treat, Stephanie Kapinski**

"You wanna know what I'd like for breakfast? I'd like you to glaze my beard like a fuckin' donut, that's what." 

Steph watched the short video on her phone for the umpteenth time, her heart pounding a little harder each time she did...and never mind glazed donuts; she was pretty sure she had just glazed her own sensible full-coverage cotton briefs. Generously.

She hit the little 'play' arrow once more. A tall tattooed man with wavy locks of dark hair, a full luscious beard, standing under a running shower, wagging his audacious eyebrows at her through the camera, repeated: "You wanna know what I'd like for breakfast? I'd like you to _glaze my beard like a fuckin' donut_ , that's what." (Man lets the shower water soak his face, then looks at the camera and wiggles his eyebrows at her _again_ \- the nerve!!)

What a thing to wake up to...630 am, and this video is the first thing she sees in her messages! But he couldn't really have meant it for _her_ ...could he? Surely this was a simple case of mistaken, early morning butt-dialling? And honestly, she didn't have time for this. Now that Thanksgiving Weekend had passed ( _Canadian_ Thanksgiving), it was going to be full steam ahead for Halloween. She had planned on being up to her eyeballs in sugar skulls and ghost cookies, not drifting in a lusty haze of jacked-pheromone-induced shower fantasies about the maintenance guy! How dare he!

Steph stared into the middle distance for a full minute. She looked down at her phone. She replayed the video. She put the phone down and foggily shuffled away to make her coffee. She promptly _forgot_ that she was going to make her coffee, and like a zombie drawn to fresh meat, turned back to her phone. She replayed the video _again_ . God, she was horny now. And no wonder; she'd only watched it about a dozen times already. _Make that a baker's dozen...ugh, lame joke!_

Stephanie Kapinski thought long and hard, even though thinking took a great deal of effort at a time like this. What if he _had_ meant it for her? Was he waiting for a response? How does one respond to such a thing? Is he mocking her, playing some kind of prank? Now that would be cruel, and Marcus had never been anything but sweet, and professional, and knowledgeable, and reliable - and okay, a little flirtatious - but Steph didn't believe he could ever be cruel or mocking.

So it must be a mistake, then. Surely. Right? He had meant that video for a different Stephanie! Understandable. There are lots of Stephanies in the world. Only one way to find out, though...Steph put down the phone, and put her hands on her hips. There was no one here to give her a pep talk, she was going to have to be her own cheerleader for this one. _Come on Steph, just type a reply. Worst case scenario, he sent it to the wrong donut. Uh, person. You'll both have a chuckle, no big deal. Right? Right!_

Steph took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and tapped the message box beneath Marcus' video. 

Steph: Hey Marcus, Steph K. here, cute video...I'm not sure if you meant that for me or someone else, LOL 😄 In any case, I hope you get extra glaze on your donut this morning *wink wink, nudge nudge* 🍩

_Oh my god, that's awful, I can't send that!_

She blushed crimson as she pounded on the backspace button. Try again.

Steph: Good morning Marcus, Steph K. here, cute video...I'm not sure if you meant that for me or someone else, LOL 😄 Either way, I can say with certainty that there is no shortage of glaze over here 😉

_Good lord, that's even worse, what is wrong with me?_ Steph poked at the backspace button again. She _swore_ she did...but then why did the screen say 'Message Sent'??

Nooooooooo!!! _Double shitballs on a hockey stick._

Steph calmly put the phone down. She marched across the kitchen to make her coffee. She _remembered_ to make her coffee. One scoop, two scoops…

_That's it, I can't be at the shop anymore when Marcus comes. I'll just have to arrange to be elsewhere. Except I can't be elsewhere, I'm the fucking owner-operator for fucksakes! I'll have to switch maintenance companies. Ugh, but that's such a hassle...plus, he does a great job, and he knows my systems, my settings, I don't want to teach all that to someone new...argh, fuck my life, and fuck my fat thumbs…no, fuck HIS fat thumbs, he started it!!_

Steph had opened up 'Sugar Me Sweet' nearly two years ago now; it had been tough in the beginning, but through word of mouth (and what turned out to be a great location), her little confectionery shop was finally starting to see success. With specialized equipment though, Steph's work area required regular and specialized maintenance, and that was where Marcus came in. He was good at what he did, perfect actually, and Steph would _hate_ to lose him. Plus, they'd built up a nice little rapport: he'd come into the shop, clean her filters, engage her in some cheeky but harmless banter, and she'd send him off with a treat on the house. _PLUS_ , he was nice to look at. No denying that. _Sigh._

Cheeky but harmless...or was there more to it than that? Marcus was her maintenance man. He came twice monthly to do his job. He also came in every Friday to buy a quartet of chocolates to bring to his mother; so sweet! And he often came in mid-week for no reason in particular, just to say hi and shoot the breeze, forever telling Steph that she worked too hard, that she should hire more help, make more time for fun and relaxation. And every time Marcus left the shop, Steph would stare dreamily out the window after him, checking out the way his arse moved in his Levi's, thinking, _damn he is fine...how is that guy still single?_

The kettle whistled, and Steph's wandering mind landed back inside her kitchen. She poured the boiling water into her French press; the heady aroma of free trade, organic Sumatran dark roast soothed her quivering nerves. And then her phone buzzed. Shit! She spun around in a panic, tangled hair flying, her threadbare terry bathrobe whirling around her bare thighs.

Stiffly, she forced herself to walk (not run) to her phone across the kitchen. It blinked at her, indicating a new message. She slid her thumb across the screen and tapped on Marcus Buchanan's name.

Marc: Stephanie Kapinski, of course it was meant for you. I wouldn't even consider going anywhere else for _sweets_ , don't you know that?

Steph's pelvic region exploded. At least that's what it felt like. _Brain...so...slow...How...make...words...Halp!_

Her mind had been blown as well, apparently. Despite her brain cramp, her fingers acted. 'Oh!' she typed, inanely, and hit send.

There was a long pause then. A long, agonizing pause in which Steph cursed and berated herself mercilessly for turning into a cavewoman and not having the fucking presence of mind to at least be cute, if not witty! Jiminy Crickets, she ran a fucking business! She could meaningfully and successfully communicate with customers, fellow business owners, suppliers, even media...but responding to a racy text was somehow absent from her skills toolkit. She groaned in dismay as her phone buzzed again...she knew her radio silence had gone on too long...how bad was it??

Marc: Fuck, I'm a moron 🤦♂️ I should not have sent you that video, I'm really sorry, Steph. I don't know what I was thinking; I guess I wasn't really thinking. That was fucked up. And offensive. I'm so sorry! 🙏

_Oooooohhhhh nooooooo!!! Damn it Steph, say something to make it better…_

Steph: No Marcus, don't worry! I'm not offended, really! 😄 I can take a joke...what's a little joking around between friends, right? Forget about it! 

Another long pause. _That was wrong. I said the wrong thing. Shit._

Marc: Ahh...okay, if you say so...hey, you're on the schedule for a call this evening...if this is too awkward...god I feel like a dumb ass, but would you rather I send someone else?

Steph smacked her forehead. This was all going to hell in a handbasket.

Steph: Nope! I'll be expecting you! 

_Seriously? 'I'll be expecting you'? What happened to my nurturing, reassuring side??_

Marc: 👍 see you at 530

Steph: 👍

The end. Her words had failed her. Her cavewoman brain had failed her. It was as if she was paralyzed: alive, aware, full of feeling but rendered unable to intelligibly convey any of it at all! This was a disaster, this was all kinds of miscommunication. Marcus had been trying to tell her something with that video, and she had missed it. Sure, it had been brash, maybe even a little scandalous, but it's not like they were strangers. Steph had known Marcus for a good long while. A thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. Gosh, maybe he'd been trying to tell her something _for a good long while_ . Maybe her head had been too far up her own arse to see it! Him having sent that video to her by mistake would _not_ have been the worst case scenario, she realized. _This_ was.

Against her better judgment, and just to torture herself, Steph hit play on the video one more time. This was going to be a hell of a long day.

***

There was a knock at the alley door, 530 pm, right on time. Steph peeled off her gloves and tossed them into the bin on her way through the back of the shop. She had managed to check off everything on her prep list today, thanks to Angela handling retail like a champ all on her own. They'd had a brisk sales day, in fact days like that were almost the norm now. Finally hiring help a couple of months ago had made all the difference, and Steph shook her head and wondered why she hadn't done it sooner.

She leaned on the door-bar to open up the rear exit, and found herself face to face with 6'6" of hard bulk, dressed in well-worn jeans and a button down work shirt, big brown eyes looking down at her with the most serious expression she'd ever seen him make. Involuntarily, Steph recalled Marcus' dripping wet face under the shower head. There had been mischief in his eyes then, and confidence. Now he looked contrite, and worried.

_I've been such an idiot,_ Steph moaned internally. _I need to put us both out of our misery. I mean, what's to stop me from jumping him right now?!_

"All locked up and cashed out in front...anything else I can do before I go, Steph? Oh, hi Marcus!"

_Oh yeah, Angela is still here…_

Steph's full time salesperson emerged from the retail floor, awaiting either dismissal or further instructions.

Steph ripped her gaze away from the man in the doorway and turned around, clearing her dry throat. "I can manage the rest Ange! You rocked today, by the way, thanks a million!" 

Angela graced her boss with a broad smile, and grabbed her hand bag and jacket. "Goodnight then, see you tomorrow!"

"Bye Angela," Steph and Marcus called together as Angela disappeared out the back door.

At the sound of the latch clicking shut, Marcus dove straight into his apology.

"Listen, Steph," he started, hands open, eyes direct. "About that video...that was fucking stupid. It was inappropriate, and there's no excuse. I'm truly sorry."

With a lurching stomach, Steph met his eyes and tried to find her voice. _He's so sincere, so adorable…I just want to curl up under his manly chin and nestle in all that fluffy, beardy, chesty stuff..._

She smiled and casually shrugged a slender shoulder at him. "Don't worry about it Marc, it's really not that big of a deal!" But contrary to her words, she felt a deep blush creep up her neck and cheeks, and she quickly turned away to fiddle with some chocolate molds on the worktop. 

Marcus continued. "Well I've had all day to stew about it, and believe me, I've stewed about it…," he sighed heavily. "I'm wondering...if you'd prefer that I step back from the equipment servicing...I'll take responsibility for training someone else, I'll make it as seamless as possible."

_Oh no!_ Steph whipped back around, aghast. _No no no, do not want! Must salvage this! Argh, think!_ Her brain was malfunctioning again now that he was here! She too had stewed about this all day, about that video and what it meant; what it could mean, maybe, for _them_ ...Over the long hours of candy making and cookie decorating, she _had_ managed to come up with something intelligent and sensitive to say to Marcus when next she saw him, she really had, and now...what was it she was going to say??

Meanwhile, as Steph stood dumb as a post, Marcus was on a roll, having no trouble articulating what was on his mind; he carried on.

"Look, I've got to at least try and explain myself - not to excuse my behaviour, but just, I don't know - fully own that it's basically my stupid arrogance that dragged us into this extremely awkward mess." He stopped and ran a big, tattooed hand through his thick dark locks of hair. "Stephanie, the thing is, I'm _into you_ . I'm not just really attracted to you, I really _like_ you. I've been dropping hints for months, hoping you were picking up on it, and there were lots of times where I thought we were clicking…," he paused, giving her an opening for rebuttal.

Steph stayed rooted to the spot as if mesmerized under the spell of Marcus' voice. _He's been into me for months…_

But with no interjection forthcoming from Steph, Marcus kept his mouth moving.

"So I guess it just got to a point where I thought I was being too subtle, and maybe I should put out a stronger signal, and fuck, you're just on my mind _a lot_ , so I went ahead and did something rash and idiotic without stopping to think that a) it's rash and idiotic, and b) maybe you're just not into me the way I'm into you."

He looked dejected, but stoic: a defendant who had pleaded guilty, and now stood ready to face his sentence. A switch finally flipped inside Steph's mind. _How stupid would I be to let you go…_

She took on a stern demeanor, clamped her gaping mouth shut and narrowed her eyes in determination. _No more tip-toeing around. Time to put on the big girl panties. This is for realsies._

"Okay Marc, you're right," Steph said a little too loudly. "We should deal with this...situation. Do you mind stepping into my office?" She flung her arm out to the left, with authority; Marcus dropped his eyes down to his size 14 steel-toed boots for a moment - a gesture of sad acceptance - before moving them toward his doom. 

Steph's 'office' was little more than an oversized broom closet; it was furnished, just barely, with a plush loveseat, an end table functioning as a desk, and her laptop computer and printer. The walls were covered in framed artwork and photographs of the things she loved, and of memories from the shop's young existence: opening day, the first sale, Marcus' first service visit…

She followed Marcus into the cramped room, and marvelled not for the first time at how he managed to move his combination of very large body parts so gracefully through such tight and crowded spaces. He gave her a sidelong look and she indicated for him to take a seat. As he did so, she closed the door, and came to stand in front of him, nearly touching his comically bent knees.

Locking her shining eyes onto Marc's, Steph unpinned her long, dark hair from its tight bun; normally poker straight, the up-do had forced it into loose, romantic waves which now tumbled provocatively down her back. She then unbuttoned her double breasted baker's jacket, much to her guest's wary befuddlement. The discarded jacket revealed a plain black tank top, which quickly followed the jacket onto the floor. The pretty lace bra, one that almost perfectly matched Steph's skin tone, stayed put for now; instead she reached down to pull the drawstring of her loose fitting work trousers, letting them slide down her hips.

Somewhere in all the rustling of fabrics and undoing of fastenings, Marc's facial expression had shifted from shocked confusion to an endearing mixture of wonder, arousal and fear. With great effort, he tore his big brown saucer eyes away from Steph's underpinnings and appeared to study her face for signs of trickery.

Evidently satisfied with what he saw, he cocked his head and raised one of those audacious eyebrows of his. 

" _Stephanie Kapinski_."

He said her name like he'd just been asked who he thought was the hottest supermodel on the planet. That was pretty much all the validation Steph needed. Marcus opened his mouth to say something else, but she shushed him with a raised fingertip.

"It's my turn, Buchanan. Zip it." Hell yes, she was going to go full naughty baker on him now!

Marcus swallowed hard. "Yes ma'am," he whispered obediently, his big hands white-knuckling the loveseat cushions.

She talked as she kicked her shoes off, and her trousers too.

" _This_ might be rash and idiotic, and maybe it's doing things backwards, but _goddammit Marc,_ I have thought about _nothing else but you in that fucking shower all day long_ !" Her chest heaved with her quickening breaths, the gesticulating of her delicate hands only emphasizing her agitation. She rambled on. "Also, I _am_ into you, in every which way that one person can be into another person, and I _can't wait_ to get to know you outside of this shop, but you issued an ultimatum about _glaze_ , and I feel like I owe you a proper response!"

With that, she launched herself into Marc's half folded up body bestride his lap on the loveseat, her eager lips locating his grinning ones beneath his bushy black beard. The beard that was waiting to be glazed like a fucking donut. His surprised 'oof' turned into a helpless moan; simultaneously giving each other access, their tongues crashed together in near desperation, devouring one another in a half-starved frenzy. Steph laced her fingers through the thick hair at the back of Marc's head, pulling gently, eliciting another throaty groan. His dinner plate hands travelled down her ribs, past the dip of her waist to her round backside; without preamble, he slid a couple of long fingers under the gusset of her lacy knickers, where he discovered the hot, wet truth of her overture.

"Oh my fucking god," he mumbled against Steph's swollen lips. He pulled away and looked at her, feverish, pupils blown wide open. His voice came out sounding husky, thirsty…and hopeful. "Are you gonna sit on my face now, or what?"

Steph sat up straight in his lap and leveled him with an imperious look. "Manners, Marcus!"

He was immediately penitent, at least from the neck up: he lowered his chin and peered up at her dolefully through the curtains of his lashes. His fingers were another matter. They had no conscience, so they carried on stroking Steph's throbbing pussy remorselessly. She instinctively leaned into his touch, finally finding an outlet for her hours of frustration.

"Please?" Marcus begged, breathless. "Stephanie…," He pressed his lips to her breastbone, right where she was _sure_ he could see her heart hammering away at her chest. Then he ceased his attentions - lips, fingers - and leaned back against the loveseat, taking his heat with him; Steph uttered a disappointed grunt. "Stephanie...Sweet Thing...will you please let me have a taste of you?"

Well, he was asking so nicely. And it was within Steph's power to make his wish come true. Or, she could drag this out, make him beg a little more. She kind of enjoyed seeing him so contrite, even if it was for show...she thought of his video, and how the memory of it had tormented her the whole day: every saucy look of his, each deliberate movement, the innuendo in his voice causing her to perch at odd angles every time she sat down...there could be a great deal of satisfaction in making him squirm. 

On the other hand...he _had_ suffered some, hadn't he? The humiliation of thinking he'd messed up, the genuine worry that he'd ruined not only their friendship but their professional relationship, all because they’d gotten their wires crossed, or rather, _not_ crossed!

A smile crept across Stephanie Kapinski's face - a little bit sweet, a little bit wicked. They needed to equalize a few things first.

"Take off your shirt," she purred.

Marc's eyes never left Steph's face as his long fingers deftly plucked open the seven buttons on his sturdy cotton work shirt, pulling the tails out of his waistband. He leaned forward to peel off the shirt, and Steph raptly watched the ripple of his shoulder muscles as he freed his thick arms from the sleeves. He tossed the garment aside, and the masculine scent of him hit her full in the face: whatever woodsy-smelling soap he washed with, mixed with sweat from a long work day, and the unmistakable pheromone musk of arousal.

_Ahh. Man. Body. Chest. Must touch,_ thought Steph, primitively. It was all she could do not to face plant directly into the epicentre of Marcus' black, swirling chest hair and inhale in big, gulping Darth Vader breaths. She reigned in her senses and reached for his belt buckle. _Let's keep the ball rolling here!_

Steph was just pulling the leather belt strap from its pewter prong and horseshoe fastening, when a strangled whimper erupted from Marc's throat. She looked up and noticed how quickly and shallowly his breaths were coming out of his flared nostrils. She heard the grinding of his teeth, and his slow blinks were very telling. Oh, he was lusty now, and he was holding on by a very thin thread. Steph went back to work on his belt, appreciating the volume of tenting taking place at the front of his jeans, but Marc gently closed his canned ham hands around her wrists. She let go, and he grabbed his belt and slid it out of the carriers himself, tossing it onto the gathering pile on the floor. He placed his hands at her hips, restlessly fidgeting with the waistband of her delicate panties and staring at her face, awaiting further instruction.

His attempt at restraint was commendable, but unnecessary, Steph thought. Now was a good time to toss him another sweet treat.

"I can always get new underwear," she shrugged.

Marc expelled a burst of air that was half sigh, half laugh, grasped the fabric and tore it open at the hip like flimsy gift wrapping. He frowned mockingly. "Well those aren't very practical!" he grunted.

"Not anymore," agreed Steph. Marc snorted. Steph put her hands on his firm, beefy chest. "Lie down," she instructed with a sweet smile. He eyed the loveseat with a dubious look. "As best you can?" Steph grimaced apologetically.

Marc's head and torso just fit across the seat cushions; he draped his long legs over the arm, loudy bumping his boots into the wall. They both had a giggle as Steph shifted with him, still straddling his hips and shoving what remained of her torn panties down her leg. 

She returned her full attention to the solid brick of a man engulfing her loveseat, and as he wrapped the span of his hands under her ribcage and caressed her belly with his enormous thumbs, she appraised the view. Marcus was a big, burly man, impressively built. Not bodybuilder big, but Strong Man competitor big. Her thighs were almost doing the splits, straddling him. Yet as big and strong as Marcus obviously was, Steph could clearly see that he was just a quivering ball of putty underneath her. Without thinking, she wiggled higher over his groin to get closer to him; Marcus hissed and bucked his hips against her, so she pushed her own hips down, this time applying the pressure intentionally.

"Stephanie," Marcus groaned. White hot laser beams shot through her body from her core to every extremity. Rubbing herself on the bulge in his jeans was a natural reflex. The friction was so good; she blissfully rode his zipper flap to the chanting of her name on his lips.

"Stephanie, Stephanie, god, you're killing me," he gasped. Steph opened her eyes and watched Marc throw his head back, watched the big artery in his neck pulse violently as he fought for control of his own body. She relented and scooched herself up to sit on his hard abdomen just beneath his ribcage, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. She let it drop from her shoulders onto Marc's heaving chest.

"Ahh, Christ, so beautiful," he croaked. He barely had time to enjoy a handful of tits before Steph leaned forward, aiming a nipple at his mouth, aggressively grabbing the back of his head and pulling him to meet her halfway.

Marcus didn't protest this treatment. Far from it. Whatever Stephanie instigated, he was wholeheartedly along for the ride. He sucked her perky rosebud into his salivating mouth and circled it with his tongue once, twice, three times, and finished with a gentle bite. Steph caught his eye as he attended to the other breast, and she let out a long whimper.

_Uuuunnnnggggghhhhh,_ she thought incoherently. _I...my...ohhh...fuuuuuu……_

Marc had finished with her tits and was grasping at her hips and thighs, encouraging her to move higher still. The loveseat was not ideal. It was soft and comfy and lovely to sit upon, but they weren't sitting. Marcus was lying down, and taking up the whole damn width! Where was Steph supposed to put her knees? Marcus sensed her struggle and shifted his torso down as much as he possibly could.

Steph huffed a mildly frustrated sigh. "It's tight up in here," she remarked, then paused and shot Marc a guileless look. "That's what _she_ said," she deadpanned, and Marcus burst out laughing. Steph giggled too, but grabbed his hands and pointedly placed them back onto her breasts; a not so subtle reminder to stick to the task at hand.

Swallowing his laughter with a growl and a hungry leer, at last Marc took initiative and made a shot-call. "Come here. Now."

_Mmm...authoritative_ ...Steph liked it. She liked it mostly because this was it; this was the moment she had been fantasizing about all day. This was the part where she got to give Marcus Buchanan what he wanted. _I'm gonna glaze his beard like a fuckin' donut, baby._

With her knees squeezed close to the arm of the loveseat, Steph allowed her moist and pulsating undercarriage to hover over Marc's happy face. She smiled at his expression; he looked like a kid in a candy store. Well, a _man_ in a candy store. Literally!

He was clearly savouring the moment as well. Suddenly, he was no longer urgent. He took the time to spread her glistening folds apart with his gentle thumbs, caressing the inner lips and pressing a circle pattern into the top of her entrance. Steph gasped and pushed towards him, but his strong hands were firmly under her arse cheeks; she wasn't going anywhere until he was ready. She didn't begrudge him that, she just gripped the backrest with her left hand a little tighter and waited him out. Once he'd had a feel and an eyeful, it was his nose's turn. He bumped just the tip of it against her as he took a sniff, making her flinch and hiss at the contact. His chuckle blew out of his nostrils against her hot, sensitive flesh…

"Marcus!" She warned him. She was trying to be patient, really. He'd been so patient with her. All those months of dropping hints, he'd told her. Hints that had flown clear over her head, all while she had secretly mooned over _him_. And now here they were, about to slap skin at the back of her confectionery shop. To the casual observer, it might seem like things were moving too quickly. But Steph didn't give a fuck about the casual observer. What she cared about was grinning like a fool at her from between her legs.

That smile...mischievous, confident, adoring...the same smile from the video, that Steph couldn't stop thinking about. _I'd love to see that smile every day of my life._

Marc caught her eye. "Give it to me," he commanded cheerfully, and Steph sat.

Her body's reaction was absolutely immediate. 

" _AAAAHHHHH, Marcusssss!! Ah, ah…_ ," 

The fluffy roughness of his beard chafing her tender inner thighs...his thick, hot, probing tongue sweeping up and down through her folds, by turns tickling her clit and perineum...the iron grip of his hands on her bum and hips...goodness, just watching his video had brought her to orgasm, and now...this was the real thing...boy was it ever...she felt herself hurtling towards it...she was cresting...cresting…

"Mmmmmm," Marcus hummed deeply, and she felt it in her bones. Steph sat down hard, gasping, crying out, pressing herself into his mouth, bucking, riding the ecstatic-electric wave of colours that pushed her, pushed her, brought her to the edge where she dangled over silent nothingness…

"Oh!" she squeaked; her face crumpled up, and then, " _OH!! OH!! OH!! OOOHHHHH!!!”_

Steph slumped over, managing to brace herself on the loveseat arm, sobbing out a sweet release while Marcus chuckled through his positively obscene slurps and licks.

"That's my girl," he praised her huskily, a look of satisfaction plastered on his face. He should be happy; his beard was _soaked._ But Marcus wasn't done yet and neither was Stephanie, as she moaned to the rhythm of the aftershocks that pulsed through her over and over. She felt his breathing get heavier than it had been. His tireless tongue worked at her, relentless and greedy. His hands gripped her tightly, and she answered by plunging her fingers into his hair.

Steph dragged her fingernails across his scalp, hard. He growled, and then made a noise like he was deadlifting 500 pounds; he ended with a moan, panting, and everything about him relaxed.

Steph sat down on his chest for a moment to rest her burning thigh muscles; then she shimmied down to lie on top of him, hooking a leg between his knees and tucking her head under his fluffy chin. She stroked her fingertips through his wiry chest hair and let him catch his breath. She traced the dark angel tattoo on Marc’s left pectoral, the one revealed in his video that she was finally seeing in person.

A minute elapsed. Steph knew what was what, but she ventured the question anyway. She raised up to look at his face, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You don't want me to...return the gesture?" Steph asked coyly.

Marcus returned her cheeky look with a sheepish one. He cleared his throat.

"Umm...maybe later?" he suggested, shifting his hips slightly. Steph glanced down. His jeans were still on, but the tenting had curiously disappeared. She looked at him again, smirking.

"I'm a fucking train wreck, Steph," he groaned. "You wrecked me! And you barely even touched me!"

Steph's grin widened. "I'm _that good_?" Marcus was squeezing his eyes shut, rosy cheeked, but chuckling.

He opened one eye. "It's uh, been a while, alright? But yeah, I mean...you're _that good_." He opened the other eye and hit Steph with a gaze so intense, her breath caught in her chest.

A flush washed over her cheeks and down the sides of her neck, and she cracked a shy smile. "You're not the only one who came fast and hard, you know. It's never happened for me like that before." She sighed and ran her fingers over his lips; he kissed them sweetly.

"You're my dream girl, you know that?" Marc asked rhetorically. He pressed a firm kiss into the side of her head, and she smiled at him, eyes glittering. "So fucking beautiful, and a major goofball...haha, OUCH!" He laughed as Steph poked him in the ribs. "It's not a bad thing!" Marc clarified. " _And_ , you're a fucking genius, badass Boss Queen." He frowned, turning serious. "You're too good for me, Stephy."

Stephanie snorted, shook her head and gently grabbed a fistful of beard, making him look her in the eye. "I'm _just right_ for you...and you're just right for me; you'll see." She pressed her lips to his and they melted into an unhurried kiss, a getting to know you kiss, the kind of kiss that held promise, possibilities. 

Steph felt something twitch against her thigh from inside Marc’s jeans and she giggled, opening her eyes to his audaciously wiggling eyebrows. She laughed out loud, but then suddenly she remembered something.

"Hey," she said. "Are you still going to service my equipment?" 

"I thought I just did that," Marcus replied, without missing a beat. "OW!" he yelped and belly laughed as he felt Steph's sharp pinch. "Okay, okay, I'm on it," he promised, sitting up and locating his work shirt. "But after that," he winked, "You can service mine." 

_Damn right I will!_ Thought Steph with a smile. _'Donut' mind if I do!_

**To be continued...**

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for part 2 😄
> 
> Thank you for reading 🌻💛


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